


A Weekly Tradition

by afteriwake



Series: bathe my soul in colours [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF Mummy Holmes, Big Brother Mycroft, Big Brothers, Family, Family Fluff, Gen, Holmes Brothers, Holmes Family, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft is a Bit Not Good, POV Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock is Alone, Sherlock is Married to His Work, Sherlock is a Brat, Some Humor, Victorian Mummy Holmes, Victorian Mycroft Holmes, Victorian Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 08:33:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6187597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft tells his mother that he found his soul mate and she demands Sherlock go to a masquerade ball in hopes he’ll find his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Weekly Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> So I had to write this to set up the influx of fics I have planned today because today is Victorian Era day for Sherlolly Appreciation Week and I have a ton of fic for that (plus one actual Mythea fic as well), so I hope you involve the Holmes brothers needling and awesome Mummy Holmes in this fic.

He had had quite the pleasant conversation with Andrea Smythe, as he found out her real name was. It has lasted for a few hours, actually, until Lord Ashford had needed her. He had bid her good day and left with a spring in his step. They had planned to attend multiple functions together, starting this very afternoon with a dinner invitation with Lord and Lady Smithfield, but first there was a stop he had to make, one he normally loathed but today he would relish: an early lunch with his mother. She loved her sons, she did, but after failing so utterly with his oldest brother due to a quirk of nature and now failing with her other sons, she hovered like a hawk. Today he could deliver good news and watch William squirm. It would be a very pleasant visit.

Violet Holmes had been lucky enough to meet her soul mate quite early in life. Siger Holmes had been her neighbour at the tender age of six, and the first day they had been introduced she could suddenly see the red roses on the bushes her mother had loved so much. It was fortunate that they got along well, and had few problems being childhood sweethearts. They were betrothed at a young age and after Violet was given a season she and Siger were married and shortly thereafter their brother Sherrinford was born.

It wasn’t until after he himself was born that it came out that Sherrinford was keeping a secret: he was one of the rare few who was completely colorblind. His entire world was in shades of grey, as he saw no colour at all. The doctors proclaimed no hope for him of ever finding a soul mate and proclaimed his parents should pack him away to an asylum, but Violet refused. Still, Sherrinford pulled away from society, away from his family, and became hermit-like. Mycroft himself had few memories of his older brother. Sherlock’s birth was a surprise. He was completely unexpected, and it surprised no one when a then fourteen-year-old Sherrinford left the family home in the dead of night. Where he was now, no one knew.

He did not dwell on his brother or his fate often. He always kept his ear open for news, at least so he could pass it along to his mother, as a balm for the wound in her heart, but as for himself he assumed his brother had probably disappeared and used the vast intellect he had had even at such a young age to survive and possibly do well for himself. No one _needed_ a soul mate; he had done well enough without one until recently. He had the feeling whatever had happened, his brother was out in the world, prospering, and if he wasn’t, he had hopes that someday he might come home before it was too late. Ties had never been severed, just bent.

His carriage pulled up to his mother and father’s home and he got out. He had gotten another bouquet of flowers, though this one not interspersed with any meaning; he knew his mother was fond of white lilies and any sorts of yellow flowers so he got her white and yellow lilies. He carried the bouquet to the door and knocked. He butler opened the door and then led him to the parlor, where he saw her and his brother already sitting. “Mother,” he said, bowing at the waist. “William.”

“Sherlock,” he corrected, glaring slightly.

Violet chuckled slightly. “Now William, dear. You know that the agreement is that when we are at my home we refer to you by your given name.”

William sighed. “Yes, Mum,” he said quietly.

Violet rose from her seat and embraced Mycroft before taking the flowers from him. She smelled them for a moment and looked at his face, starting to speak before stopping and giving him a peculiar look. “Mycroft? Has something happened?”

He nodded. “I finally met my soul mate, Mother.”

Violet’s eyes went wide as she gasped. “Oh, my. After all this time. Do sit down and tell me all about her.” Her butler came in and she gave the flowers to him as Mycroft went and sat in the chair he normally sat in, and when she was done directing her butler as to which vase to put the flowers in Violet sat back down. She adjusted her skirt and then looked at Mycroft. “What’s her name?”

“Andrea Smythe,” Mycroft said. “She is Lord Ashcroft’s houseguest and part-time employee for the duration of the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee, to ferret out information on those plotting against the festivities.”

Sherlock looked impressed despite himself. “At least she’s not one of those empty headed women of the ton.”

“No,” Mycroft said, shaking his head. “I met her at the Diogenes Club, where she had snuck in attired as a man, to eavesdrop and collect information for Lord Ashcroft.”

Violet gave a small smile. “I like the sound of her already,” she said approvingly. “I take it you have seen her in feminine attire, though?”

“This morning,” Mycroft said. “I left Lord Ashcroft’s residence to come here for our weekly luncheon date. I would have stayed longer and missed this to speak with her more but he needed her assistance.”

“Well, I would have overlooked you missing our appointed weekly luncheon for that,” Violet said. She reached over and took Mycroft’s hand in hers, squeezing it. “I’m quite glad for you, Mycroft. I am. Do you find her suitable?”

“Quite,” he said, a small smile on his face. “I’ve offered to get her into as many of the events leading up to the day of the Jubilee as she would like to attend to help with her information gathering endeavor. We’ll be dining with Lord and Lady Smithfield tonight, attending a luncheon tomorrow, and then the masquerade ball at Lord Habersham’s tomorrow night for a start.”

“You know, William,” Violet said, turning to her youngest son, “it would do _you_ some good to go out and associate with society.”

William scowled. “I have no need to go out and mingle with the brainless fools in the ton, Mother,” he said. “I’m perfectly fine associating with the people at Scotland Yard and St Bartholomew’s.”

“Yes, but expanding the circle of people you associate with could increase your chances of—” she began, but he held up a hand to stop her.

“You’ve had one son succeed in finding their soul mate,” he said. “That’s good enough. I do not care to, nor do I want to, tie myself to anyone. It will only but them in danger, for what I do is dangerous. I deal with some very dangerous cases, very deranged killers. For all any of us could know, there could be another Jack the Ripper popping up out of the woodwork and he could get a fascination with me.”

“Have you made any enemies yet?” Mycroft asked urbanely.

“Not that I’m aware of,” William said. “But—”

“Go to the masquerade ball, dear,” Violet said, her voice cheerful but determined, her gaze equally so. 

William looked at her a moment, his gaze initially defiant, but the longer he held her gaze the more he seemed to crumble under the weight of it. Finally he gave a defeated sigh. “Fine,” he said.

Mycroft smirked. “Don’t worry, brother mine,” he said. “I’m sure I can find a nice case among my government files to pique your interest if the ball is not to your liking.”

“I hate your cases,” William grumbled, crossing his arms and slouching into the seat.

“Straighten your posture, William,” Violet said. William gave another sigh and straightened his back as the butler arrived. “Now then. I believe our luncheon is ready. Shall we?” Violet stood up, followed by his brother, and Mycroft stood last. Oh, this had all gone just as well as he had hoped. Perhaps even better…and he still had the meal to go through. It really had been in his best interest not to bypass his weekly luncheon with the family after all.


End file.
